Greg Allman Shows Me Something This Morning

Once, I wrote a poem about you and me driving to Henderson,
singing along to Linda Ronstadt’s version of Willin’.
I didn’t send that one out to journals. It was just for me.
Once, professor Haxton told me that a love poem void of conflict
was a poem that’s not telling the truth.
I remembered that when I wrote it, but I couldn’t bring myself
to change anything.
Sometimes I think I am psychic.
My Dad visited me after he died.
My Aunt Maire comes to me in my dreams
& tells me who in the family she needs to speak with.
Did I know what was going to happen?
Was I already, then, trying to deny the events of this world?
Today I sat at the counter of a diner in a new town I’ve come to
so I can live somewhere you’ve never been.
Willin’ came on
but it was Greg Allman singing.
He sounded drunk and dirty
& now I couldn’t hide from what the song was really saying
by glancing at your face framed in a car window with cow country passing by
& it occurred to me that I never was willing
& neither were you.
Now I’m humming while I eat my bacon and side green salad
& this is the most honest sound I’ve made.

Natalli Amato is the author of two poetry collections, On a Windless Night and Burning Barrel. You can read her work here: www.natalliamato.com